


Empty

by Buttons15



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-11 23:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12946824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttons15/pseuds/Buttons15
Summary: Angela carried a gun, but it was always empty - or so Moira thought.





	Empty

It was only fitting that they would meet again in the battlefield, and to be fair, Moira really wasn’t complaining. Many people would kill for a chance to meet their ex on exactly that situation – literally. Fortunately for her, Angela was anything but a killer. So when they faced one another in the tight, cramped room,  battlefield sounds surrounding them, Moira was not scared.

Not even when Angela lifted a handgun and pointed it straight to her forehead.

“Drop the act, Angela,” she said, her own weapon long lost in the chaos. “I know very well that you –”

_ Bang! _

Something behind her exploded with the bullet impact. Moira blinked.

_ Holy shit. _

“You were saying?”

“You…” she shook her head, recomposed herself. “You used to carry an empty gun, Angela.”

“And you used to  _ not be a terrorist,” _ the other hissed. “I can and will shoot you, so you better lay down your weapon –”

“Do I look armed to you, Ziegler?” she spat. “I am a geneticist. I am here to collect data. I lost my god damned gun about thirty minutes ago, or else I’d have put some holes on your pretty face already.”

Angela hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “Moira, I – ”

“Oh god please just shoot me already,” she interrupted. “I do  _ not _ want to hear whatever you are about to say.”

“Well that’s too bad, because I’m the one with the gun,” Angela snapped, then grit her teeth and lowered her arm. “Moira, just listen –”

She didn’t listen. She lunged, going for the weapon. Unfortunately for her, her body was rheumatic and Angela was younger and alert. She could have been killed right then, but this was Overwatch’s  _ Mercy _ they were talking about. Angela didn’t shoot her, of course. Instead, she dodged in time, and threw her gun out of the window.

Moira heard it hit the ground a moment later, about twenty floors out of reach. She’d wanted the weapon, but this wasn’t a terrible outcome. She could still walk right out of there, Angela wouldn’t stop her –

She felt something hit her stomach, a heavy kick, and backed, bending over in pain. “You fucking –” She lifted her gaze just in time to see the other reach on her back for something. “Oh,  _ really,  _ Angela? Seriously?  _ Two fucking guns?” _

“Tough luck,” she grinned, steadying her arm so that the barrel faced Moira. She was never a good shot, but at point blank distance even her wouldn’t miss. “Now, are we talking or do I have to shoot your kneecaps?”

“You wouldn’t.”

In a split second, Angela’s posture shifted, the gun trailing from her forehead to her leg. “Okay, okay!! I’m listening!” she yelped, because suddenly she was not too sure of her statement. “Go on. Take your time. I have absolutely nothing else I rather be doing right now.”

There was a long moment of tense silence, and then Angela took a step back, never letting her out of aim. “Moira, I’m sorry.”

“Really. Prove it, then. Drop the gun. Let me go.” 

She saw the vaguest twinge of irritation cross Angela’s face. “I  _ will _ , once you listen.”

“Why don’t you just spare me the bullshit –”

“I mean it!”

Now she grew angry, because she seemed sincere, but this was Angela she was talking to, someone who absolutely would and did offer fake excuses to deescalate a situation, someone who absolutely didn’t mind saying sorry when she was not sorry at all.

“What are you sorry for, Angela?”

No answer.

“As I thought. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be leaving – shoot me or not, that’s up to you. Just don’t forget to say  _ sorry _ if you do.”

She made her way to the door. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me be.” Moira paused, hesitated. “I didn’t… value you as I should, and I realize now that I might have been the one to… push you down the path you went.”

It should have made her feel something, but all she got was emptiness instead –a gaping emptiness that had followed her for years, so long that she could barely remember what an emotion was anymore. She hardly felt pleasure anymore, she had a hard time focusing and her sleep schedule was completely off track, she ate very little, her self-esteem was a wreck and everything felt hopeless –

_ Oh my god, stop, _ she told herself –

“I think I have dysthymia,” she muttered. 

“…dysthymia,” Angela repeated, then blinked. “Not depression major or type one bipolarity?”

Moira pinched her nose. “Too chronic. No suicidal ideation. No mania as far as I can tell either.”

“I always took you for a personality disorder rather than a mood one,” the other replied, thoughtful. “But those are not mutually exclusive. Neither of us are psychiatrists anyway. Does Talon even have –”

_ Why are we discussing my diagnosis _

She missed this. Missed these conversations, these talks on the corridors, coming up with crazy diagnosis after crazy diagnosis and sometimes being right, she missed sharing wild stories at three AM over a cup of coffee, she missed fumbling to put on sterile gloves because  _ I’m a geneticist, what the hell, get someone else to assist you – _

“What are we doing, Angela?”

Angela took a moment to think. “You mean in general or… right now?”

“Both. Whichever.”

“I don’t… I don’t know. In general, I mean. Right now, I’m just – just trying to apologize.”

“You don’t mean that. You never mean that.” She accused, but her tone was weak.

“I do, though. I’m  _ sorry.” _

“You don’t resent me?”

“I did  _ not _ say that,” Angela scowled. “I sure as hell resent you. I resent you a lot. Wow. Fuck you.”

She couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. She saw the barest twitch on the corner of Angela’s lips. “That’s better,” she smirked. “More genuine. I always hated your diplomatic persona – you’re a bit of a bitch, Angela. Even though you hardly let it show.”

“You’re a bitch and everyone knows it,” She shot back. “I hate that you didn’t give me a choice.”

“A choice?”

“You could have told me. Should have told me.” She crossed her arms over her chest, but Moira didn’t make a move for the gun. “You knew Blackwatch was in bed with Talon, and you could’ve – told me. Quit. We could have quit together, and maybe right now we’d be… I don’t know. Practicing primary care in a small village in Ireland. I’d have wine and you’d have beers. Swiss chocolates. We’d discuss Grandma Emma’s diabetes prescription –”

“You hate primary care,” she interrupted, breaking eye contact. She felt herself tear up a little, swallowed it back down. “I don’t even know how to prescribe insulin anymore.”

“You should start with metformin,” Angela smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes – and yes, she was definitely weeping. “I would have left Overwatch for you, Moira. Would have left this hell organization, the politics, everything. You never gave me a chance. I realize now how much of that was my own fault – I should have made it clear but I never did.”

“Made what clear?” She took a step forward, and her legs were long enough that they were suddenly a bit too close. Angela didn’t step back.

“That I loved you.”

Another step. Their bodies touched. Moira leaned down to kiss her, she was so much taller even though Angela wasn’t short herself. Her lips tasted like blood and salty tears, and now that they were close enough, Moira could see a couple rather deep cuts on the other’s face.

The gun was pressed to her stomach, cold and metallic poking against her skin. She very gently pried it off Angela’s hands, meeting no resistance. Angela suddenly faltered, her eyes rolling back in their sockets, and Moira barely had time to catch her before she hit the ground. She dropped the gun to do it, too.

She dragged Angela to the wall, rested her back against it, and fumbled through the Valkyrie suit until she found thee emergency life support button. The suit flashed red and the wings on the back detached.   Moira had helped project this, and she knew the suit would get rid of all energy-spending gimmicks and focus its entire power on keeping the user alive.

Angela’s eyes fluttered awake a moment later, and she whimpered.

“You were bleeding out,” Moira hissed. “You fucking idiot.”

She chuckled, then coughed. “Maybe it was just your vampire kiss.”

Moira leaned in and kissed her again. This time, she felt Angela’s hand over her nape, wincing when the other hand touched the bit on her abdomen where a bullet had grazed. Angela noticed, of course she did, and they broke apart while she shifted to better expect the wound.

“Just a graze,” Moira reassured, getting a scoff in return. “Ziegler.”

Angela stopped, met her eyes, but said nothing. Moira gathered courage. Angela waited.

“I loved you too.”

Angela closed her eyes and sighed. “This time, will you give me a chance?”

Moira pulled away, took a step back. The gun was only a few centimeters from her hand, and she stretched out to grab it. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “Give me time. Let me think about it.”

The other opened a single eye. “Of course.” 

“Here,” Moira extended her the pistol. “Talon is sweeping from the right, but they should be gone soon enough. Wait here for another dozen minutes, then take the route to the left. You should be fine.”

Angela arched an eyebrow, took the gun from her hands, then smirked. “It wasn’t mine.”

“What?” 

“The other gun, it wasn’t mine. You were right, of course.” She flipped the pistol, pointed it straight at Moira and pulled the trigger. It went  _ click _ , but no bullet came out. “I carry an empty gun.”

_ Never change, _ she thought, and gave her a final parting kiss.

“Moira!” Angela called, right as she was about to leave. She turned back, saw her sit up straight. “I love you still.”

Moira looked away, and for what felt like forever, had nothing to say. Then she smiled, just a little. “Glibenclamide. That’s what you give after metformin but before insulin.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Angela whispered. 

Moira didn’t say it, but she loved her too.

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to the folks at the moicy discord for the headcanon <3  
> thanks for reading!


End file.
